Unremarkable
by Tuathail
Summary: Every step of that journey between being and being together is rewarding and, when it comes to Haruka, Michiru cannot regret even a single moment. Set early season S in a single, unremarkable, and thoroughly wonderful day.


AN: For the livejournal community sm_monthly's september first challenge.

1.

In the first few weeks after they meet, life is a kaleidoscopic blur and they experience each other in more ways than either thought possible. Each word is a thousand pictures and each glance a thousand words and Michiru cannot remember how she ever lived before this, before the intensity that consumes every gesture and movement, before the awareness of wind on her skin with every breath. If this is the effect Haruka has on her now, she cannot begin to imagine the magnitude of what could (will; it is hardly a matter of _if_ so much as _when_) follow.

Today they are running gleefully late for school and Haruka is lazily watching Michiru as the latter applies lip colour with far more attention than befits their time constraint. Haruka checks her watch with ostentation; her voice is chiding but her amusement is palpable. "Dressing up for someone in particular?"

They do not have time for romance but surely, by that logic, life is so short and duty so chaotic that no-one should have time for anything at all. Michiru catches Haruka's eyes in the mirror and her heart forms the words _always; not that dressing up is necessary for that_and her mouth forms a sliver of a smile and the words "myself, of course." Setting down her brush, she joins Haruka by the sofa, her voice so playful that the air around her syllables stirs with frivolity. "Should there be anyone else?"

Haruka smirks and doesn't respond, because she knows. Because Michiru needs not give voice to even a single thought if not for want; all that is her is laid out already before Haruka, every inch, every feeling, every whim, and every want. Somehow, when she wasn't looking, Haruka has already moved in, has understood everything she is, has invaded every molecule of space beneath her skin.

She finds that she cannot mind it at all.

2.

Usagi is, as always, running late but incorrigibly cheerful.

A box of cookies clutched comically in one hand, chocolate crumbs still dotting her lips, Usagi is the very caricature of herself as she narrowly avoids colliding head-on with first Haruka, then Michiru's schoolbag, and then the lamppost standing innocently tall behind them.

"Ah... good morning!" Barely flushed and only a little sheepish, Usagi straightens with a bright grin and loud greeting. In the instant before Michiru can do even so much as smile in response, Haruka has stepped just close enough to be a little too deliberate, her husky voice eliciting from the blonde a nervous giggle.

"Distracted, _odango_?"

For a moment Haruka locks Usagi's gaze with her own and the younger girl's only reply is a severely bemused expression verging on panic. Michiru breaks the stillness first, positively _beaming_as she links her arm through Haruka's, her firm grip on Haruka's elbow a far cry from the brightness of her smile. To Usagi she is charming and polite; to Haruka, everything left unsaid is in her very deliberate smile and the way her fingers tense lightly around Haruka's skin. "Haruka and I should probably leave to not be late. Have a good day, Usagi."

It seems to snap Usagi into action and like an actor jolting out of a freeze-frame she gasps, her eyes widening. In the next second, the words "I'm late!" cried over the shoulders of her rapidly-running figure are the only evidence of her having been there at all.

In the shell-shocked quietness that follows, Michiru releases Haruka's arm and turns to her with a playful smile. "Ah, do we have time for romance when it comes to the right people?"

Haruka's half-veiled eyes and solemn smile wield more than words ever could. "When it comes to the right people," she agrees in an even voice. Then, meeting Michiru's eyes with a teasing smile worthy of – well, of Michiru, really, garnished yet with Haruka's unmistakable charm – "but that, Michiru, was not romance."

When it is, her eyes guarantee, you will know.

Michiru takes this in stride, her smile sweet and composed. "Should I be relieved then, that you're not distracted?" _From me_, her expression says, in the split second of time before she speaks - speaking as if it has always been her only intention - "from our mission?"

Haruka chuckles, though her lips are curved almost humourlessly. "Our mission." There is a second of pause before she offers a warmer, knowing smile. "Of course."

3.

It is a few minutes after lunch and Haruka, rather than joining the throng of people rushing to Chemistry class, is lounging by Michiru's locker with an expression that positively bubbles with suppressed emotion. Michiru herself is coolly impassive as she extracts, reads, and returns to her locker the third unsigned letter of admiration she has received in the past week.

"When you are acting like that, I can only assume you're jealous," she says now in a light, smiling voice, her expression concealed by her open locker door. "You receive just as many such letters, don't you?"

Even without seeing Haruka's face Michiru can feel Haruka's eyes darken, her smile twist into one of casual arrogance, her expression becoming dismissive. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?"

"Is that so?" Michiru leans back, peering over the edge of her locker door, eyes narrowed in amusement. "You _are_jealous, Haruka."

"Maybe." Haruka reaches around Michiru, neatly encasing Michiru's waist between her arm and the locker door, and pulls out the note in question. A quick scan confirms what she seems to have long-ago decided and the note is tossed carelessly back to Michiru's locker floor. "Even if they feel that way, is it really necessary to say it in those words?"

Michiru shuts the locker door with a sharp, metallic clang, her voice softer than her meaning. "You've never wanted to say a thing like that to anyone, then?"

Haruka is standing directly behind her when she gives that gentle laugh, something between a chuckle and a smirk; Michiru can feel Haruka's warm breath tickling the back of her neck. Her meaning is all too clear. "It shouldn't be necessary." To the students who still linger in the corridor they are innocent (if odd), two people staring stoically at a closed locker door. Only Michiru can feel the fabric of Haruka's trousers against her own bare legs, the way her curls tickle the skin at Haruka's neck. "That person would already know, wouldn't they?"

"A lot of things are not strictly _necessary_," Michiru responds with a small, coy smile, running a hand through her hair so that it brushes Haruka's skin before lightly prancing out of reach. Her last comment is whispered directly in Haruka's ear as she turns to walk away.

"However, they can still be..." A pause, a smile, a world of suggestions for which she sows seed and leaves Haruka to ponder. "Worthwhile."

Haruka's laughter is quiet as it chases Michiru persistently down the corridor.

4.

"Do you think it might rain? I left one of the windows open."

They are reclining against Haruka's car, hands resting comfortably between them, touching just enough to be accidental. Haruka's smile plainly wonders how Michiru could think about windows, of all things, right now. She casts a cursory glance at the skyline beyond the coast; the sky _is_remarkably grey but, with a glance back at Michiru, Haruka shrugs lightly and answers with a tone bordering on nonchalance.

"I have other priorities."

Michiru turns, a little too sharply, to meet Haruka's intent gaze. A sentence like that cannot be allowed to pass too easily. Her own voice is silky, as if it is a cursory enquiry, but her eyes betray her intrigue.

"Such as?"

Their eyes meet for a moment and a silent joke (_wouldn't you rather find our for yourself, Michiru?_) is passed between them. Breaking the look, Haruka straightens from her relaxed stance and faces Michiru with a very different expression. "Such as driving, of course." Speaking as if it should be obvious, Haruka makes her way to her side of the car, responding with only a slim smile to Michiru's chuckle. "Let's drive on."

Haruka's eyes challenge the sky for storminess – though of a more playful nature – and Michiru thinks that should she draw and compose music for all her days she would never come close to reaching perfection quite like this. "Oh?" Michiru slides her glance to the darkening sky, her own tone mild, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "That doesn't seem strictly necessary, Haruka."

Haruka's eyes are closed and yet her smile reaches it all the same. "I was told once that what is not necessary may still be - " Michiru is not the only person with her fair share of two-pronged words and Haruka substitutes her own, rather liberal, interpretation. "Fun."

Michiru's laughter is like tinkling music as it promises that she is quite happy and willing to test that theory.


End file.
